


in your heart my voice

by snsk



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Genderswap, Or Is It?, Pining, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, The Author Regrets Nothing, Unrequited Love, girl!Isaac, girl!Scott, hear that imelia, wait what
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2012-10-08
Packaged: 2017-11-15 21:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snsk/pseuds/snsk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>isaac/scott genderswap. and then smut. and then, much to izzie's annoyance, <em>feelings</em>. goddamnit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in your heart my voice

* * *

 

This, this is what Izzie wants:

 

to push Scotty up against a hard, solid surface one day (maybe back her into a wall, when they’re at the vet, and Dr Deaton’s not around- or maybe in the woods, against a tree, so Scotty can feel the bark, its biting friction against her back (locations differ in Izzie’s daydreams, but it’s always something hard, and it’s always kinda _rough_ )) and cup her cheek with her palm and- and _kiss_ her, kiss Scotty, bite inside her, taste the surprise in Scotty’s mouth and then to

 

to slide her hands under Scotty’s shirt, feel the expanse of smooth silky skin, unhook that _annoying_ clasp and feel, touch, worship the curves and dips and lines that make up Scotty’s long, lean body with her fingers, fervent and prayerful like a blind man would and Izzie’d like to

 

to feel Scotty shudder against her, when Izzie reaches down, _down_ to warm moisture and slippery skin to feel Scotty gasp, pant, _grit_ out Izzie’s name like it’s the only word she knows but that’s not enough, she has to-

 

to unbutton, unzip, or _try_ to, hands moving fast but fumbling, Scotty letting out a _whine_ at the loss of pressure where Izzie’s hands were just a moment ago but- “Hold on, baby,” Izzie manages because she needs to, needs to

 

to slot their bodies together, skin against skin, a warm _right_ jigsaw puzzle, to kiss Scotty filthy and open-mouthed while her fingers trail downwards, again, a rhythm against heat, a directly proportional graph that leaves Scotty quivering and tense, a tightly-strung bow, a time-ticking grenade that only unspools when Izzie leaves off laving (marking) at her neck

 

to blow, hot and shuddering, into her ear, to breath Scotty’s name, and just like that, _just like that,_ Scotty’s eyes flash gold and and _that_.

 

 _That_ \- that is what Izzie wants.

 

( _wants_ being a loose, loose term for what Izzie really feels, which is- which is- well, she _craves_ , with every fibre of her being, every inch of her soul- a loud mantra in her mind, a fire pooling in her belly whenever she looks at Scotty, sweaty and laughing after one of Derek’s insane training sessions ,or stroking a kitten to sleep with her finger, face given over to tenderness, or grinning at Izzie as they race through the woods (“Dude, that’s cheating, you’ve got _way_ longer legs.”))

 

But.

 

_Except._

 

Except Izzie isn’t stupid. Except that she knows that having _this-_ this sweet, tentative thing, all fondness and ease and unexpectedly having somebody who cares whether she eats and sleeps is far, far more important than anything her fingers and lips and skin could possibly want.

 

Besides, she knows- has done so for years, that what she wants can take a back seat. Wanting something, wishing upon a star, can’t make something _stop_ \- this Izzie knows from experience- so why would it make something happen? Izzie has _long_ learned how to repress what she wants, so this is just another exercise in self-control, another something she can’t have, doesn’t deserve, can’t need. What she had wanted, once, was Lydia, and that was the end, that was _it_ , until Scotty arrived- Scotty, with her dark messy hair and gentle fingers and way of making Izzie not lose faith in human freakin’ _goodness;_ Scotty, with her big brown eyes which _looked_ at Izzie, open and trusting, as if she believed that at the core, as messed up as Izzie was, she _wasn’t broken_.

 

Scottie, who- wants Allan.

 

This Izzie knows, too, but. Well.

 

Scotty is waiting for Allan to deal with his severely cracked-up family (a family which, Izzie muses, puts hers almost to shame, and that was saying something) and come back to being the Allan Scotty knows, the one who was sweet and kind and didn’t use crossbows as torture devices. Scotty is waiting, has been doing so for months, all throughout the Alpha Pack coming and alpha-ing (and Derek alpha-ing right back and a fight nearly breaking out and Stiles saving the day by, hey, what, using his _brains,_ something Izzie feels Derek should do more when it comes to his diplomatic skills but she digresses) but lately she hardly glances over at Allan’s table anymore at the cafeteria, hasn’t dragged Izzie into a toilet to avoid Allan in ages, and when she does hang out with him treats him like she would Danny, or Jackson. Allan looks- happy; he’s in the Archery Club, and his grades are up, and he’s laughing more with Lydia and Jackson, and he looks- happy, and Izzie’s happy for him, and-

 

Izzie doesn’t let herself hope. Therein lies madness.

 

Scotty asks, “What’re you thinking about?” She nudges her sneaker against Izzie’s under the table, reaches over and tugs at a curl that’s escaped from Izzie’s ponytail. They’re in the library, and Scottie isn’t ever able to stay concentrated for long stretches of time, but it’s not like Izzie can call the kettle black right then.

 

Izzie wants to-

 

wants to lean over and kiss the corner of Scotty’s smile (feel it curve under her lips)

 

wants to nuzzle her nose into Scotty’s shoulder (breathe the scent that smells of _safe_ )

 

wants to integrate herself into the empty spaces in Scotty’s bed (in Scotty’s dreams, and Scottie’s life).

 

Izzie-

 

swallows it down, and says: “Chemistry. Like a good student should be doing, not making a paper airplane with their notes on the first five elements of the Periodic Table.”

 

“Uh-huh, totally,” Scotty says, grinning. “You were spacing out.”

 

“Thinking about _Chemistry_.”

 

“I know you better than that, Lahey.”

 

“You do,” Izzie admits. She looks at the paper airplane, and says, “D’you think you could get that to hit the back of Jackson’s head?”

 

“Uh, _yeah_ ,” Scotty says, but super-werewolf hearing, and Jackson’s whipping around, growling, and the airplane hits him right on the nose and Scotty and Izzie pick up their books and head to the entrance, laughing, to escape Jackson’s wrath.

 

Outside, it’s a crisp autumn day, and Scotty smiles, wide and unburdened, at Izzie, loops an arm around her shoulders.

 

And it’s superstition, perhaps, a kid's fairytale; something as stupid as wishing upon a star, but if Izzie doesn't let herself have this (because not _wanting_ it is impossible, it's an everpresent ache inside of her, it's a howl at every full moon), then maybe she'll get to keep Scotty.

 

And that, that is what Izzie needs.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) thanks to dom, who said i could write whatever i wanted (so this is, in part, your fault <3 :'D)  
> 2) and thanks to imelia (fanficloverme96) who glanced over the first draft of this, written during my bio exam a few hours ago, laughed hysterically and asked me, "you had _this_ much time?" which of course spurred me to finish this by today (additional note: two more papers of bio tomorrow).


End file.
